Reflections on a Previous Night
by imagine.life.sweeter
Summary: Spain is a magical place where they connected and broke each other's hearts. Seddie one-shot.


**OMG, Italy is so amazing guys. I'm loving my free time here, tucked in bewteen ballet classes and music lectures. You've gotta sieze the day, you know? So when this idea popped into my head, I just *HAD* to write it.**

She sat on his couch, her feet tucked up underneath the rest of her body. She never seemed to be warm enough these days. A weakly rated reality show played in the background, but she wasn't listening to the girls moan and groan about how hard it was to be a model. Her mind was in the past, back to spring break of junior year.

She had gone to Spain with him, all on a whim. The tickets were cheap, and any kid could stay in a youth hostel. They spent the days roaming the city, taking in the sights and the arts. Every night was spent hopping between restaurants and pastry shops and gelato stands on the streets; the food was amazing. He knew how much she loved the food. Pasta, pizza, bread, risotto . . . oh, they had eaten it all. She must have gained five pounds that week.

The last night, he had told her to dress up. She wore the one fancy dress she owned, a tight black one with tan lace detailing. It hugged her body in just the right way. He had told her she looked amazing.

They ate dinner on a dock by the shore. The sun was just setting, and the boats that drove by looked beautiful against the sky. She wished she knew what had been coming her way. They ate and ate, and enjoyed a rich chocolate torte for dessert. She remembered the way it tasted, so smooth and rich on her tongue. Like heaven on earth, she had murmured when she tasted it for the first time.

And he had smiled at her in a way she hadn't seen him smile in a long time.

Afterwards, they had walked along the beach. When she had complained about how her heels sunk in the sand, he had swept her up in his arms like a new husband carried his bride. They both had gotten drunk and were laughing like crazy. They fell in the sand and laid there for a while, watching the stars appear above them as the sky darkened from dusk into night.

Then he told her he loved her.

She had been so scared, so drunk, that she didn't know what to say to him. She tried to find the right words, but nothing would come out. So she kissed him, kissed him right on the lips. He kissed her back, tenderly at first, before finding his way. Their tongues fighted for dominance and their hands started to roam. His hands found the zipper of her dress and she had tried to unhook her heels at the same time. She never got her second shoe off before she lost her virginity to her best friend.

The flight home the next day had been quiet. Neither said much; they simply sat as they flew back across the Atlantic. They went through customs simply. Yes, they had gone on vacation together. No, they weren't dating, just friends. Yes, they had bought a few things in Spain - some jewelry for their other best friend and their moms, a set of Spanish paintbrushes for their friend's older brother. No, they weren't terrorists. They had no guns or drugs in their posession.

They bought lattes from an airport coffee shop. It was nothing like the European java they had experienced the week before. They flew on another plane, again in silence. Their other best friend was waiting for them in the airport, gushing about how tan they had gotten and how cool it was that they got to go to Europe while she had to visit her granddad in Yakima. She asked how Spain was.

She said it was fine. He nodded his agreement. They never mentioned Spain again.

Yet here she was, sitting on his couch when he wasn't home. The whiny models on the show were in Spain, trying to get to sees or go-tos or something like that. They were pretty stupid. They couldn't read maps. She watched blankly and they went from place to place. Her ears were focused more on waiting for the sound of a key in the lock rather than the critique of the photos.

He came home around six. He wasn't surprised that she was there, on his couch, in his living room. He was more surprised that she hadn't eaten everything in his fridge. He said hello to her, asked if she wanted anything to drink while he got himself a can of ginger ale. She declined.

They sat on the couch and watched the show for a few minutes in silence. She tried to work up the nerve to say something, anything. She had to ask him.

"Do you ever think about Spain?" she asks before she can stop herself. She watches as he processes what she's asked of him. She wants to know how he feels; the most guarded girl he knows wants to talk about feelings. Hell must be freezing over. He turns to look at her, her turquoise eyes so focused on him. She's scared. She's vulnerable.

She's in love.

"Every day," he replies slowly. "Every single day." They look at each other in quiet understanding. It's been awhile since they have connected on this level. The last time was actually in Spain, or at least that was the last time they can remember. It was in a tiny art gallery and they both just clicked. It was like their minds were on the same wave. They had never disconnected, but they hadn't thought much about it either. Spain had been blocked from their minds. It was too much pain for the both of them.

She leaned in towards him. He could see the tears in her eyes as she kissed him, kissed him right on the mouth. He kissed her back, tenderly at first, before finding his way.

**I hope you liked this! Please pass on the love via reviews.**

**xo, Chantal**


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